


romance is dead and done

by softouches



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, also instead of sleeping, but it's fine, everything is confusing i'm sorry, i wrote this instead of thesis series, if you want to aske me what it is please don't i was just broken inside haha, woosan besties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:55:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27730390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softouches/pseuds/softouches
Summary: Somewhere between the restless denial and set of sleepless nights, Wooyoung comes to realization that he likes San. But it’s a secret. A secret so big that even thinking about it feels wrong.Love is all fun and games unless you catch real feelings, they say. Wooyoung desperately wants to ask where is that border between real emotions and something that is masked by the pure feeling of adoration and sympathy.That’s why Jung Wooyoung doesn’t seem to catch when sincere affection and fondness for his friend turns into something that people would label as unrequired love. He doesn’t like labels, but that one seems especially dangerous, almost ruthless, having no fucking mercy on him.Romance is dead and done. But, maybe, love isn’t.
Relationships: Choi San/Jung Wooyoung
Comments: 13
Kudos: 77





	romance is dead and done

**Author's Note:**

> hi it's almost 2am and i'm barely comprehanding anything but enjoy!! 
> 
> [now is playing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l_Pf7z9Zr70&ab_channel=elenatonraVEVO)  
> 

It’s quite amusing for Wooyoung how society exploits the notion of love. Not even in capitalistic way (even though is such an obvious thing)

You’re feeling lonely? It’s because you’re lacking love. Feeling sad and exhausted all the time? You need a romantic drama in your life filled with tears, arguments, and sincere feelings, if you’re lucky enough. You don’t feel like home anywhere? Find home in someone else.

But for Wooyoung romance is dead. Never was alive.

It’s not like something precise happened to make Wooyoung spewing with scepticism. He didn’t have a particularly bad break up experiences, and didn’t really suffer from unrequired love, no more than any sixteen-year-old teenager had at least once. It’s just a thing that he accepted, as a fact, sticking to it tightly, like it has been glued to his core.

In fact, Jung Wooyoung was generally a caring person. Kind and thoughtful in his words, friendly enough with strangers, giggly and smiley with close friends and family. It’s just that he didn’t believe in love. Well, romantic kind of one.

Because there was one thing Wooyoung knew for sure – he loved Choi San more than anything.

And before you can draw in certain conclusions, Jung Wooyoung labels it ‘love’ just because there isn’t other word to describe such a weak spot for a human being, and it’s completely, and definitely platonic.

_Definitely._

*

Wooyoung is there when San falls in love for the first time.

“So, who’s the boy?” Wooyoung asks, occupied with his laptop while San is writing something in his notebook.

“Why do you think it’s a boy?” San pouts, and Wooyoung peeks out of the screen giving him a _look_. “Okay, it’s a boy,” San sighs.

“I figured, thank you,” Wooyoung rolls his eyes. “I need a name.”

“Why? Let me suffer through it peacefully,” the boy grumbles.

“Just for science,” Wooyoung shrugs, averting looking at the boy. He doesn’t want to admit it, even to himself, but something jabs inside, million of incoherent thoughts running through his mind with an unbelievable speed. He comes to a conclusion that, well, he is just a curious human being.

_Right?_

San mumbles something in reply, but it sounds like a ramble, and he doesn’t manage to catch anything at all. “I’m sorry, what? You’re mumbling,” Wooyoung leans in closer to hear San better.

“Seonghwa,” San whispers, biting down on his lower lip. “I like Seonghwa,” he repeats more confidently.

Wooyoung doesn’t really take it seriously: it’s stupid high school crush, after all.

Until it’s not.

Seonghwa confesses his feelings in the cheesiest way – on valentine’s day with a pretty bouquet of red roses – and Wooyoung is not that impressed, unlike everyone in that damned school. And San hates roses, he loves sunflowers. He talks about it all the time.

But Wooyoung gives the boys warmest (he hopes) smile, congratulating them on finally getting together. And the strange twist in his guts, with heart dropping almost to the stomach is probably the feeling of overprotectiveness.

Because Jung Wooyoung doesn’t believe in love, right?

*

“I don’t understand why me,” Wooyoung leans back in his huge chair, rubbing his eyes to snap back to reality. It’s the middle of the night, and tiredness starts to take over, but San, pacing back and forth in front of him, is not keen on sleeping yet.

“Because you’re literally my brother, Woo!” San throws his hands in the air. “And I really don’t want to live in the dorms.”

“Why don’t you move in with your boyfriend?” Wooyoung asks, maybe harsher than intended. San’s face dims all at once, usually bright eyes expressing nothing but hollowness.

San clears his throat, taking a seat on Wooyoung’s bed. His apartments are rather small, so he can’t offer much when it comes to occupying places, but it’s still comfy and cozy to his liking. “Seonghwa doesn’t want to rush anything,” San says calmly, but Wooyoung manages to catch how he tongues at his cheek, and he usually does it when he’s annoyed.

Seonghwa and San are strangely perfect couple to everyone, but not Wooyoung. Because Wooyoung is here when everything bad happens. And it’s not that Seonghwa is a bad human being, he is not, and he really cares about San, but sometimes things don’t work out the way they should, and somehow Wooyoung is always there to witness this.

Just one more reminder for him why romance is dead, and does not, in fact, exist.

“He wouldn’t be against the idea?” Wooyoung asks after a long silence, deciding not to accentuate San’s obvious disappointment.

“No, why would he?” San immediately beams, and Wooyoung ignores strange warmth spreading inside once again. “He likes you, you know that, and he knows that we’re literally brothers.”

 _Brothers._ The word lingers over with something familiar yet odd. Wooyoung believes in brotherly love, he knows San is a bit more than a just friend to him, having a spot as weak as his ability to sleep at nights. And still, the feeling is strange.

But Jung Wooyoung is incredibly good at ignoring his feelings until they eventually go away.

_I don’t believe in love._

“And you’ve always said that it could get lonely in here from time to time,” San continues with puppy eyes, lips forming in a cute pout. “Pretty please, I will make you the tastiest breakfasts.”

And Wooyoung gives in, thinking that there is nothing that serious, and what can possibly go wrong. San is his best friend, and it’s always fun to have him around, and he always gives him the needed portion of affection when he craves it the most.

 _Romance is dead and done_ , he whispers over and over again while watching as San brings in boxes with his clothes and humble belongings, with smile as bright as the sun and eyes as deep as the galaxies.

*

Somewhere between the restless denial and set of sleepless nights, Wooyoung comes to realization that he likes San. But it’s a secret. A secret so big that even thinking about it feels wrong.

Love is all fun and games unless you catch real feelings, they say. Wooyoung desperately wants to ask where is that border between real emotions and something that is masked by the pure feeling of adoration and sympathy.

That’s why Jung Wooyoung doesn’t seem to catch when sincere affection and fondness for his friend turns into something that people would label as unrequired love. He doesn’t like labels, but that one seems especially dangerous, almost ruthless, having no fucking mercy on him.

Romance is dead and done. But, maybe, love isn’t.

“You good?” Even the way San talks is soothing, as if someone wrapped you in a tight hug, gently caressing your back and taking all the worries away. “You look a bit sick? Are you feeling well?” Now San’s hands are on Wooyoung’s forehead, and even the mere touch of his fingers seem to ease his mind.

Wooyoung gulps, shaking his head restlessly while trying to hide the flush on his cheeks. Supposedly, they are half an hour late to the party – not like Sancares with the way he is dressed in a plain hoodie and black jeans, but not like it makes him look less breathtaking. Wooyoung hugs himself, feeling goosebumps appearing on his bare arms, but he knows it’s not from the cold.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Wooyoung gives out a forced smile, eyes still avoiding San’s worried gaze. Because he knows the moment he looks into them it’s over – Wooyoung will fall apart, piece by piece.

But Sanis persistent. “You liar,” he smiles cheekily, titling his head to the side to catch Wooyoung’s gaze. And the latter gives in, because he is weak. So damn weak to play those ruthless games.

Jung Wooyoung likes Choi San. And slowly but steadily it ruins him from the inside.

*

If someone had asked Wooyoung what love is, he would probably say ‘Choi San!’.

But the problem of not believing is still there, as Wooyoung never accepts it as something serious and permanent, yet San is the closest to that definition of unconditional love. Wooyoung just knows that whatever happens, the boy will always be by his side, greeting him with the warmest smile and words of compassion. But one day Wooyoung just shuts down, not perceiving the outer world all together.

“What happened this time?” San asks, sprawled on the couch while resting his head on Wooyoung’s shoulder.

Wooyoung gulps, insides twitching as if it’s the first time telling his best friend about foremost break up. As if San hadn’t gone through the same ‘I fucked up the relationships’ thing three moths ago. “Didn’t work out,” he shrugs, shoving popcorn into his mouth.

“Aren’t you sad?” San asks, mumbling the words so low that it’s hard for Wooyoung to catch that. “You’re never sad,” San continues, something between smile and smirk appearing on his face.

“I just have a positive outlook on life,” Wooyoung retorts, putting all the cheering spirit scattered around in a one sentence, to make it seem like it’s okay.

Loneliness is a weird thing.

While being in relationships it was all Wooyoung craved for. People were constantly too much, overly flaunty acts were too much, and all Wooyoung wanted is to figure himself out, without any exterior intrusion.

Romance is alive, but barely breathing.

That’s why when break up finally happens, Wooyoung is happy, ecstatic, even. Ahead of him he only sees the opportunities and the mere feeling of freedom, dripping on his tongue as if he had bitten onto something sweet. Yet, as adults say, eating too much sweets can cause you a set of problems.

The thing that Wooyoung doesn’t realize is that dissolving in other people when your heart is already occupied is a bad, bad idea. But liking San feels too much. Seeing him happy by his side feels too much, so Wooyoung finds the only way of distraction he can come up with – breaking people’s hearts to shudders.

Because, no matter how sad it would be to acknowledge that, humans need humans.

And Wooyoung is left alone in the dark, completely lost.

*

“Aren’t you tired?” Wooyoung freezes in his place, not quite registering that someone is talking to him. Voices in his head get louder and louder, as the sound of water from the shower is filling his ears, pounding loudly.

“Of what?” He asks, seeing through the mirror as Sancomes closer. Tears are still gathered at the corner of Wooyoung’s cheeks, but, as paradoxical as it is, smile graces his lips, being as soulless as his image in the reflection.

“You’re hurting,” San says, in the voice that almost seems like broken. “I see it, you see it, but we act like everything is right,” he huffs, forcing out air out of his lungs. “But it’s not,” he comes closer to the boy, hand put over his bare shoulder. “It’s not, and you’re not telling me,” now San’s voice is a whisper, faint shadow of the sentences he forms in his mouth.

Just as Wooyoung gapes, preparing to brush everything off as he always does, he feels a bump on his back, San’s breath tickling on his skin. Wooyoung looks slightly over his shoulder, seeing as the boy is resting his head somewhere near the crook of his neck, and the goosebumps on his skin transfer somewhere to the pit of his stomach. “It’s not fair,” San practically _whines_ , and Wooyoung feels as excitement from someone’s touch mixing with painful wrench in his chest. “Why you are not _talking_ to me.”

 _Because I like you too much, idiot_ , he wants to say, but lets out an exasperated sigh instead. It’s not right, it’s not what you should feel towards your best friend, but Wooyoung’s heart is already in pieces, way too sharp not to leave marks.

Wooyoung grips on the sink, gaze wandering away from the mirror in front of him. San’s breath is still on his body, and his body is close, and Wooyoung thinks he is completely losing it, holding onto the last straws of his sanity and consciousness.

“You don’t want to hear what I want to say,” he retorts with a huff, slowly turning around.

It was a bad decision, Wooyoung decides.

Because now he is facing San, seeing his bright eyes full of despair, and soft features, that usually look so live and vivid, now depicting nothing but confusion. San cares, and it something that makes Wooyoung feel like an ass even more.

“I do,” San whispers, nodding his head enthusiastically. “I always do,” he adds a few seconds later, hand touching Wooyoung’s arm soothingly.

And it’s the moment when Wooyoung breaks, because there is no sanity left behind.

He starts slowly, hands tracing over San’s cheek gently, and for the first time the latter smiles, lips curling in a smile. And even under the blinding lights of their bathroom he looks no less breathtaking, his whole presence filling up the room. Wooyoung brings his face closer, and it’s a perfect moment for San to back down – to push him away, to _do_ something. But, instead, the grip on his arm tightens, as if asking for something that feels so wrong.

But it’s not.

“Do something,” San rasps, as if reading through Wooyoung’s thoughts.

“Promise you won’t hate me,” he whispers somewhere near his lips, way too close to back down now.

“I could never,” he says, but the end of the sentence gets caught up somewhere between their lips, as they brush together.

It’s chaste at first. A touch that feels way too quick as Wooyoung slightly leans back to check up on San’s reaction, gulping loudly. San’s cheeks are flushed with red, and his eyes are blistering with something deep, almost physically pulling him back. The gap between them is so small that they are breathing into each other lips, Wooyoung’s mind short circuiting in attempts to actually _think._

Then San places his lips over again, and Wooyoung’s mind is a blank canvas.

If desperation was a kiss, it would probably feel like it. San’s hands are everywhere – on Wooyoung’s sides, arms, chest, stomach, leaving burning marks as they go. Their teeth are clashing, and tongues are lost somewhere between hitched breaths and soft moans, echoing through the small room. San presses in, and Wooyoung is forced to lean back, cold metal of the sink sending shivers down his spine. It’s a weird contrast to San’s heated body, turning Wooyoug’s insides into incoherent mush.

“Wait,” he finds strength he never knew existed to pull away. San lets out a low whine and Wooyoung thinks he _dies_. “How… _why?_ ” He asks, mind still catching up on the fact that his friend is kissing him.

Not other way around.

San faintly rolls his eyes, resting his forehead against Wooyoung’s, hands still traveling up and down his body. The boy’s head fall somewhere to the crook of his shoulder, breath tickling sensitive skin there. “You’re really dense sometimes, Jung Wooyoung,” he says, leaving butterfly kisses on his neck.

The thing with Choi San is that he made you feel… _special_. The look that he gives you, the way that he listens to you, jokes around you, teases, like he has real feelings going on.

But that’s just the part of his charms, indeed. Wooyoung has more than enough time to observe that – unintentionally, of course – the way San behaves with others. He sees same smiles, same laughs, same adoring looks on people’s faces, tingling feeling of jealousy boiling inside of him. And Wooyoung constantly felt like a fool. Like an idiot, falling for the wrong person.

But what if it worked in both ways?

“You were never lonely, Wooyoung,” The words feel warm yet sharp against his skin, as if it’s something between the comfort and pain, something that joins it on the seam. “You just never let me in.”

Maybe Jung Wooyoung doesn't believe in love.

But the feeling of heart breaking out of his chest is telling him that it's such an obvious lie.

**Author's Note:**

> i honestly don't know how it happened and it's probably one of my worst works so pls check out some other stuff i promise i can write better. i just had this heartbroken impulse and poured it all into this (also i'm a bit tipsy so i hope you didn't find much mistakes bcs i tried!!) also happy belated bday wooyoung omg 
> 
> maybe hit me up on [twt](https://twitter.com/softouchan)  
> !! also drop by [cc](https://curiouscat.me/softouchan)
> 
> vote for atz on mama and stream inception, you know the drill ;)


End file.
